


Vodka-Flavored Kisses

by therobotjane



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Boys Kissing, Drinking, Hangover, M/M, Morning After
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-15
Updated: 2016-10-15
Packaged: 2018-08-22 14:29:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8289074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therobotjane/pseuds/therobotjane
Summary: (Takes place on Night Ten of 707's route, so ~spoilers~)...Yoosung doesn't want to be alone. Not tonight. Not after everything that's happened. Zen agrees to let him sleep over. Maybe he doesn't really want to be alone right now either. Drinking ensues.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I just got to this point in 707's route last night and, oh my gosh, the phone call from Zen (and drunk Yoosung) made me so happy. So I stayed up until Way Too Late writing this garbage. Enjoy~

Zen made the phone call, knowing what he was likely to hear, but needing to hear her voice anyway. Just to make sure she was safe. Sure, she was with Saeyoung now, and he was frankly the most deadly among the RFA members, but still.

Yoosung took another shot from the half-empty bottle of vodka, only spilling a little on the coffee table. He was sitting on the floor, having fallen off the couch at some point.

The phone rang, once, twice...a third time...Zen started to worry. Just before the fourth ring, the connection clicked. He grinned.

“Is everything okay? I’m with Yoosung! Tomorrow’s the party but he’s drinking like crazy…” he said, with a bit of a laugh, a little embarrassed at the relief in his voice. Before he even got a response, Yoosung started crawling his way up the couch, pawing at Zen’s legs.

“Yoosung, get away from me!” he shouted, slapping at Yoosung’s hands. “I’m a guy! I don’t like you getting your hands all over me! What’s wrong with you?”

Yoosung let out a drunken titter, trying to use his grip on Zen’s pajama pants to keep himself vertical. “Zeeeeen…...who….whooooo are you talking to…?” His words were wet and slurred with excessive drink.

Zen kicked at Yoosung but not with much force. He didn’t want to hurt the kid but he was being seriously annoying. “My princess! Why, what are you gonna do?”

Yoosung rested his cheek on Zen’s thigh, giggling again. “You...you’re lying,” he said. “Saeyoung got the princess, not you…”

Ouch. Well, that stung. After checking on the _princess’s_ safety and being reminded, again, that she was with Saeyoung, safe and sound, Zen figured that was all there really was to talk about.

“I’m glad you’re safe. And happy,” Zen finally said, a little bitterness creeping into his voice. He forced out a light laugh. “You know, I could’ve made you happy too.” He could almost hear her roll her eyes, eyes that he’d never even seen.

Yoosung’s flailing hand landed unceremoniously on Zen’s stomach, grabbing a handful of t-shirt. “...could make me happy…” he said into Zen’s thigh.

Zen made a noise of pure exasperation. “Listen, I’m sorry, but I have to put this idiot to bed…”

“....put me to bed…..”

“...so I’m going to go. I shouldn’t have called. Sorry. Just be safe, okay? We’ll handle the party.” Zen tapped his phone screen, cutting off the call. He turned his attention to Yoosung. “What is your problem? I was trying to have a phone call!”

Yoosung finally, and with extreme effort, pulled himself up next to Zen, somehow without moving his head off the other man’s thigh. He took a shaky breath, letting it out with a giggle. The room was spinning a bit too much to pleasant anymore. All he really wanted to do was sleep but after all of things he’d learned that day, maybe the spinning was preferable.

“My problem,” Yoosung began, his voice a little stronger, “is your stupid pants. They are very warm. On my face.”

“They’re supposed to be warm. They’re flannel.”

“Soft though~” Yoosung added, nuzzling Zen’s thigh like a contented cat.

Zen shoved at his shoulder but not terribly hard. He didn’t want Yoosung to go tumbling onto the floor again. “I am a guy, Yoosung. Stop that. It’s bed time.”

Yoosung rolled so he was lying on his back, peering up at Zen from his lap. “You know what else is my problem? V is. V’s always been my problem,” he said, waving his arms around in an extremely meaningful fashion, he was sure. “But not Rika. Was never Rika.”

Zen felt his heart sink. He patted Yoosung on the forehead. Maybe the couple of shots he’d had to Yoosung’s dozen were getting to him. Or maybe it was nighttime sentimentality. “I know, man. She was like your sister.”

“Sister? Yeah, I guess a sister. I just...I loved her. Loved her so much. Then the _princess_ came to take her place but it’s not the same. Not the same. Rika...Rika was so pretty. I would’ve married her if it wasn’t for V. The bastard.” Yoosung shook his head, his dyed-blonde hair flopping around.

“What? Married her? You were related,” Zen replied, shocked. After a moment’s thought, he came to the conclusion that he was far too sober for this shit. He leaned forward, over Yoosung, and grabbed the vodka bottle off the table. Bringing it to his lips, he took a swig.

“So what? It wasn’t even...she wasn’t my sister for real. Cousins.” Yoosung giggled again. He reached up his unsteady hand and ran it through the side of his hair that wasn’t still being held back by now-crooked pins. “Cousins...identical cousins…” he sang, off-tune. “You know, I colored my hair because of her? She was so pretty. I want to be pretty too. I’ve never been pretty.”

Zen took another swig, hissing as the strong liquor hit his throat. “Not everyone can be as handsome as I am.”

Yoosung laughed again. “Right?”

“I know she meant a lot to you but that seems...weird, man,” Zen said. “To keep talking about how hot your cousin was.”

Yoosung fixed a serious, if bleary, look on Zen. “It doesn’t even matter. Like...if you love someone? Why does it matter?” He took a deep breath before continuing. “When you care about someone…it doesn’t even matter. If they’re your cousin or brother or even if they’re a boy or a girl. You love their heart. And their soul. You know?”

Zen shook his head but Yoosung cut him off. “Seven...I mean, Saeyoung, I guess...it’s gonna be hard to get used to his new name...or old name...real name...whatever...I hope he finds his brother,” he said, again flailing his arms.

“Yeah, me too. Listen, you should get to bed…” Zen tried again, giving Yoosung what was most assuredly a kind smile. Training as an actor for years prepared him for this, at least.

Yoosung pouted. “I don’t wanna go to bed. I wanna talk. There’s a lot of stuff in my head right now. I’m feeling complicated.”

“Me too.” Zen’s voice was a little softer. His thoughts were different from Yoosung’s, he was sure, but were definitely more serious than he wanted to deal with on the night before the party. He took another swig from the bottle, narrowly keeping it out of Yoosung’s grasping hands. “You don’t need any more to drink.”

“Zeeeen come ooooon,” Yoosung whined, half-heartedly reaching for the bottle. Then, giving up, he started talking again. “You know what? I’m gonna die alone. I’m gonna be alone forever and ever because Rika was the only one that loved me and now she’s dead and I don’t...I don’t even know what I’m gonna do.”

Zen opened his mouth to speak but Yoosung pressed a finger to his lips. Well, first he pressed it to his nose, then his cheek, before finally finding his lips.

“Shhhhhh~ Listen, okay? You’re so...you’re so beautiful. You’re probably not even a human. But not, like, a robot like Sev...Saeyoung. Or Jumin. We got a lot of robots…” Yoosung trailed off with a giggle before continuing. “But, like, maybe an alien or something.”

Zen moved his head back, breaking contact with Yoosung’s too-warm finger. “You watch too many science fiction movies, man.”

“You should be in one. A beautiful alien that comes down to earth to rescue the poor, lonely college student who has lost everything…” Yoosung nodded, rather profoundly in his opinion. Nausea hit him again but it wasn’t as strong.

“Don’t say such stupid things. I’m a musical theater actor! There aren’t musical science fiction movies.”

“Rocky Horror Picture Show.”

Zen smacked the heel of his hand into his forehead, sighing.

Yoosung grinned up at him. “You’d be Rocky.”

“Shut up, Yoosung,” Zen said mildly, taking a long pull from the vodka bottle.

“Really, I’m...I’m so jealous of you, Zen. You’re so beautiful that it’s stupid. You could have anyone you wanted. Anyone.”

Zen laughed, pushing his silvery hair back. “That’s not _exactly_ true…”

Yoosung rolled again, pushing himself up weakly, still unsteady. His face was way too close to Zen’s, his eyes struggling to focus. “No, it is. It is true. I wish I was like you. Manly and attractive, you know? I’m not, never will be.”

“You…” Zen sighed, starting to get a little wobbly himself. “You’re cute in your own way, Yoosung.”

Yoosung managed a small laugh even as a tear escaped from one eye. “I’m sorry, Zen. I really, really am. Please don’t be mad at me. You just...you make me feel so…”

Zen shook his head before answering. “I make you feel so what?”

“.....jealous. Just, jealous. That’s all. You’re so beautiful…”

A long silence passed between them.

“I’m sorry, Zen. I’m just...I’m just saying all this stuff because I’m drunk. Please don’t be mad at me,” Yoosung said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yoosung, I’ve been at this game for a long time. Liquor doesn’t make you lie. It makes you tell the truth. All of the stuff that’s buried deep, that in your right mind you’d never say. That’s how it works,” said Zen.

That gave Yoosung pause. For a long moment, he just stared at Zen’s face, which couldn’t manage to hold still. Or maybe Yoosung was weaving slightly. It was hard to tell. “Zen?” he asked quietly.

Zen struggled to keep the kind look on his face, despite Yoosung’s uncomfortable closeness and vodka-scented breath. “Yeah?”

“Would you…” he started. His pale eyebrows drew together, like he was confused at his own thoughts. “Will you kiss me?”

“What?” The vodka was definitely getting to Zen because right that second, it didn’t sound like a terrible idea. Yoosung was very...delicate. For a guy, anyway. And his big, violet eyes were looking up at Zen. So needy.

Yoosung shook his head a little. “You’re so beautiful, Zen. So if you would kiss me, that would have to mean I’m beautiful too, right?”

That seemed perfectly logical. Which set off just enough of an alarm bell in Zen’s head that he sat down the vodka bottle. Leaving both of his hands free. To tangle in Yoosung’s hair. Before he could rethink his actions, Zen pulled Yoosung’s mouth to his.

Yoosung made a small squeak of surprise which quickly turned into a soft, contented sigh. He didn’t try to touch Zen, not trusting his floppy hands. He let the other man guide them. Zen’s mouth tasted like alcohol but he didn’t mind. Especially when his tongue pushed into his mouth.

Zen couldn’t contain the grunt of pleasure, almost a growl, that escaped him as Yoosung’s mouth opened so eagerly. It really wasn’t any different from kissing a girl. Why didn’t he think of that earlier? Mouths are mouths.

_Mouths are mouths._ That thought sent enough of a throb to his groin to bring him back to his senses. He broke the kiss but Yoosung immediately moved to suck at his throat instead.

“Yoosung...Yoosung? Hey, man,” said Zen, trying to get the blonde’s attention. When all he received in reply was a questioning _Hmm?_ , he barreled on. “Look, you’re drunk. And I’m not exactly sober myself. We should go to bed.”

Yoosung pushed his body against Zen’s, looking up at him with unfocused eyes. “Mmm, yes. I’d like that, Zen. Take me to bed~”

Fuck. Zen’s hands moved down Yoosung’s body, quite of their own volition, before settling on his hips. He let out a shuddering breath, shaking his head, trying to clear it. He didn’t expect Yoosung’s body to feel so good against his own.

But this was wrong. Yoosung was heartbroken. Lonely. Scared. And very, very drunk. Maybe all men turn into wolves at night but that was no excuse. Zen shook his head again before gently pushing Yoosung off of him. “Come on, man. Sleepy-time. We have the party tomorrow. I’ll get you a pillow.”

The look Yoosung gave him nearly tore his heart in two.

Zen sighed. “Fine. You can sleep in my bed. Just...come on.” He stood, leaving no more room for argument. “I swear, if you puke in my bed, I’ll beat your ass.”

Yoosung got to his feet, wobbled wildly, and tipped over, catching himself on Zen’s arm. He turned those big, inviting eyes on Zen again. “Promise?” he asked.

Zen merely rolled his eyes.

It was a struggle, bodily hauling Yoosung into the bedroom. Once they were there, however, Yoosung threw himself on the bed and started kicking out of his jeans.

“What are you doing?”

Freed from his pants, Yoosung pulled his shirt up over his head before throwing it at Zen. “Not gonna sleep in my clothes. Too hot.”

_Too hot._ Zen thought those words described pretty well the sight in front of him. Yoosung fell over backwards, now in nothing but a pair of teal boxer briefs and bunny-print socks. He shook his head again and killed the lights, hoping that would help him be less aware of Yoosung’s long, slender, naked limbs. He crawled into bed on the side the blonde wasn’t occupying, praying that sleep took him quickly.

Zen was just about to doze off when Yoosung made a small, plaintive sound.

Yoosung thrashed around for a moment before mumbling, “Too cold.” One of his flailing, questing hands landed on Zen’s leg and paused. Without hesitation, he pushed his body backward, until he was pressed against Zen’s warmth. “Cuddle me~”

Zen had a really hard time ignoring the way the curve of Yoosung’s ass was pressing against his groin. The strawberry-scented hair brushing against his face. He threw an arm over the smaller man and pulled him in closer. “First you’re too hot, now you’re too cold. Such a pain,” he whispered against Yoosung’s cheek, before planting a tiny kiss there. “You’re lucky I’m such a gentleman.”

“...rather….wolf…..awooo……..” Yoosung was clearly falling back to sleep.

****

The alarm clock blared. It was seven in the morning. The day of the party. Zen rolled over, slapping blindly at the alarm.

“Make it stop,” Yoosung whined, pulling a pillow over his head. “Everything hurts…”

As he sat up, the night’s events came rushing back to Zen, leaving him blushing. Yoosung’s bare leg sticking out from under the blanket didn’t help. “Rise and shine, dude. We have to get ready.” He shut off the alarm.

Yoosung gave a couple of over-dramatic fake sobs before throwing his pillow at Zen. “Ugghhh, I feel awful,” he moaned, pushing himself into a sitting position. His eyes finally fluttered open. Heat rushed to his cheeks, turning him a rather dark pink. “I...uhm...why am I in your bed?”

Zen pushed his hair back and ran his hands over his face, trying to wake up. He felt like shit. And he was sure Yoosung felt ten times worse. “You didn’t want to sleep on the couch,” he muttered into his hands.

Yoosung fussed nervously with the blanket across his lap. “Did anything...did we…? I don’t remember much after you made your phone call.”

“Dude.” Zen couldn’t help laughing a bit, but it was a friendly laugh. “I’m almost offended. I didn’t take advantage of you. Nothing much happened. You got totally shitfaced. We talked about V and Rika.”

“That’s it?”

Zen had enough experience getting blackout drunk to know that he wouldn’t be doing Yoosung any favors by trying to save him embarrassment. The memory would probably come back sooner or later anyway. “You, uhm, asked me to kiss you,” he said, still staring resolutely at the alarm clock.

A painful-sounding groan followed by a stream of very grade-school-level cussing left Yoosung’s mouth. “Oh gosh, Zen. I’m so sorry. I’m really really sorry. Oh my gosh…”

Taking pity on the poor kid, Zen shook his head. “It’s okay, man. No harm done,” he said. He pushed himself up off the bed. “Time to get ready, though.” He crossed the room to his closet, removing the dry-cleaner bag that held his suit for the party. Then, rummaging through Yoosung’s overnight bag, he pulled out the blonde’s slightly wrinkled, cheap slacks and dress shirt.

Holding them up, Zen asked, “This is what you’re wearing to the party?”

Yoosung hiked a smile onto his face. “Hey, I brought a bowtie! Bowties are the epitome of fashionable cuteness.”

“Uhm, sure, whatever,” said Zen, tossing Yoosung’s clothes to him. “We don’t even have time to shower,” he added, grumbling to himself. “I need to wash my face, at the very least.” He left the room, leaving Yoosung alone.

Rubbing his hands over his face, Yoosung could still feel the heat from his blushing. He asked Zen to kiss him? What had he been thinking? Zen was the most aggressively heterosexual person he knew. But it hardly mattered. Clearly Zen had been disgusted and put him to bed. With a sigh, he swung his legs off the side of the bed and stood.

He was midway through pulling up his slacks when Zen returned, looking refreshed. Shirtless, with a towel draped across his shoulders. Yoosung turned his eyes to the floor, quickly yanking his slacks the rest of the way up.

“There, much better. You know, you can use my face wash if you want. It’s really nice, from Paris,” said Zen, not really paying much attention to anything but his suit, which he was neatly removing from its protective bag. “I import a lot of my skin care stuff. Can’t be too careful with a face like this.”

Zen turned to smile at Yoosung who, despite still struggling with the nasty, guilty, ashamed feeling twisting in his stomach, looked up to see his smile. Zen had such a nice smile.

With a horrible, fluttering swoop, Yoosung saw it. The pale, purplish love bite on Zen’s neck. A couple of scattered memories came back to him in a disjointed rush, through the vodka-tinged fog and his splitting headache. Zen’s mouth on his, Zen’s fingers in his hair, pulling him close.

“Uhm, yeah, hey Zen? About last night…” Yoosung began, feeling dizzy from embarrassment, even as his body reacted to the memory.

Zen waved a hand dismissively, turning back to his suit. “I told you, don’t worry about it. No big deal, dude.”

“Yeah, uhm, your…” Yoosung gestured at his own throat, not quite looking at Zen.

“Hmm?” Zen turned toward the floor-length mirror, tilting his head back at a weird angle to expose his throat. “Ah. Well, shit. Good thing I have concealer.”

“That’s it? That’s all you’re gonna say?” Yoosung asked, his voice getting high. He picked up another pillow and threw it at Zen.

Zen crossed the room and cupped Yoosung’s chin in his hand. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t want things to be even more complicated, right before the party. We were both pretty drunk last night.”

“Yeah, but…” Yoosung dug around in his blurry memory. “...you said when you’re drunk, that’s when you’re honest. And I’m...I’m pretty sure you kissed me.”

Zen chuckled. “I did say that, didn’t I?” He leaned forward, bringing his lips very close to Yoosung’s. “I’m glad you stayed over last night. Maybe we could do it again sometime? With less alcohol so my conscience doesn’t get in the way when you start begging me to touch you.” He placed a small, chaste kiss on the other man’s lips, grinned, then returned to getting ready. 

It took several moments for Yoosung to get his heart...and other anatomy...under enough control to finish getting ready. The whole while, Zen bustled around the room, singing to himself, acting completely cool. Did...did he mean what he said? About doing it again sometime?

Yoosung supposed it didn’t really matter, not right this second. They had a party to get to, after all. And with Saeyoung and his princess still in hiding, that meant the rest of the RFA would be pulling double-duty with the guests. He hoped they would show up, if only so he could see that they were safe with his own eyes.

Standing in front of Zen’s mirror, Yoosung fussed with his bowtie, feeling self-conscious about his outfit after seeing Zen’s. But Zen came up behind him, reaching around his body, and straightened the bowtie himself.

“You look fine. Relax,” Zen whispered.

And, for once, Yoosung thought that maybe he did.


End file.
